Author Note: We meant to mention this a few chapters back, but my dumb ass forgot to do it.
Not surprising, aside from her work with Mossad, nothing about Samar's background was really mentioned.
We looked through the episode transcripts and stumbled over them mentioning Tehran, Iran and Pishin in relation to her brother, but not much else.
Anyway, since not much was there, we created a past/character profile based off the little clues we were given.
Considering the plot holes on TBL, I guess it doesn't really matter, but if you remember something of importance, let us know so we'll have it for future reference.
LIZZINGTON
A jarring phone awakened them from a most lovely nap.
Placing the phone on his shoulder, Red secured the tie on his robe just as a chime floated merrily through the rooms below.
Stepping into the bathroom, Red stared at Lizzy's reflection in the mirror before covering the phone in his hand. "Lizzy, the food is here. Are you coherent enough to make it down on your own?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" She was stumped. She felt a little light-headed, but other than that, the meds had worn off... hadn't they? "I don't want to change." She motioned to her yoga pants. "Do I have to put on a show?"
"We're off the clock." The man grinned over at the tight-fitting outfit. "I like your ass in them. If anyone doesn't want to look? Let them turn their heads."
Glancing at his frowning wife, Red's mouth quirked at the corner when the woman absently rubbed her hands across her nipples in a bid to warm the chilled peaks. Snatching her sweater off its hanger, she slipped the long sleeve on over her spaghetti strap top, hiding her cold nipples from view.
Noticing Red's reaction to her predicament, she lifted helpless hands. "Hey, it happens." She whispered.
Once again covering the phone, Red arched a wry brow, motioning to the world outside. "Enjoy it while it lasts." Had she forgotten the heat wave hitting the town? "I know I will." He glanced once more at the little peaks before the voice on the end of the line demanded his attention.
The woman's scowl deepened a little, but then she rolled her eyes slightly, a grin coming to the fore for his statement and the way his eyes deepened when focused on the straining peaks.
Staring out over the Houston skyline outside the large windows, Liz sighed as shimmering waves of heat lifted off the concrete to tower above the sky-rises looming overhead.
Glancing out at the sunset, she felt an unbidden smile take shape. There really weren't sunsets like this in DC, that was for sure. At least, none as picturesque.
Lifting her eyes away from the rolling green pastures out to the west, her eyes softened on the vivid oranges, pinks and purples framing the large yellow sun hanging low in the sky. No matter how damn hot it was, it truly was beautiful. Even the slow churning oil pumps somehow enhanced the setting.
"All it needs is some cowboys on horses to complete the effect." She muttered to herself.
Shifting her attention, she giggled her surprise as a handful of men on horseback came into view, edging out from beneath a canopy of trees. They looked like uniform cops, but from this distance she couldn't be sure.
"Well, there you go," she stated sotto voce, "my life is complete."
Easing into her slippers, she motioned she was going downstairs. Red's smile warmed her. Closing the door behind her, she headed for the elevator, finally taking note of her surroundings.
The woman stopped mid-step, her mouth gaping slightly.
Red never did anything halfway, that was for sure.
When she was set to marry Tom, everyone encouraged them to splurge and secure a honeymoon suite. In her search, she stumbled over the fact Presidential Suites existed.
She remembered opening the pictures provided and gawking at all the bells and whistles offered. Out of morbid curiosity and hopes she could possibly afford it on their honeymoon budget, she input her desired dates and waited for the results.
She nearly had a heart attack when the actual total appeared. Neither she nor Tom could fathom spending more than five months' rent for a room and gladly settled for the Holiday Inn. It did have a coffee maker and minifridge, so there was that.
Considering the torrential rains that beset their honeymoon choice, and a minor case of intestinal issues brought on by a bout of food poisoning that kept one or the other in the room eighty percent of the time, she should have picked up on the omen.
If nothing else, the old adage...don't drink the water, sure was an apropos one.
Looking back, since most of the time was spent in the room, she wished they had splurged just a little and spent the extra hundred bucks for the suite upgrade.
Hindsight, they say.
Stepping out of the elevator, Liz's eyes swept the open floor space. "Holy... shit." The woman could not take in all the luxurious accommodations in one sweep.
"Good lord..." she whispered, inching further into the room. When compared to her present surroundings, the Presidential Suite didn't just pale in comparison, it fell flat on its expensive face.
She, of course, noticed the pool before, but not the actual size of it. The one she and Tom had lazed in at the Holiday Inn, with a couple dozen other people, was comparable in size. But this one belonged to her and four other people alone.
Slowly turning about, her eyes widened even more so. That wasn't just a wet bar with a mini-fridge and coffeemaker, but a fully stocked one containing every type of booze you could want. A complete kitchen, with full-sized appliances, sat just beyond it.
"Yeah..." Samar chuckled, glancing up to the new arrival on scene from her relaxed position on the mammoth divan, "it's shabby, true. But I'm going to try to make the best of it."
Looking at the posh accommodations, then down at her lounge attire and fuzzy slippers, Liz quirked a wry brow. "I feel I'm sullying the majesty with my attire."
"You could always slap on a suit and tie," Hunter made mention, "or at least, that's what they make me do in swanky places."
Samar and Liz exchanged subdued grins for the remark.
"Every time I look at that chandelier over the dining table there," The man squinted at the brilliant lights. "It blinds me, in a nice way, you understand. I feel like a hippie on a drug-induced trip. Look at all the pretty colors..."
Dembe came from an adjoining room wearing gym shorts and a t-shirt proclaiming him a proud member of the Majestic 12.
"Isn't it against club rules to go about promoting you're part of a top-secret society?" Liz grinned, gesturing to the man's shirt.
Uncapping an orange juice, Dembe looked stoically at the trio. "Trust no one..." he said, before chugging a large mouthful of the tart juice.
"Even Mulder wasn't allowed to rub elbows with that elite group of riff-raff." Hunter imagined.
"They asked me to join, but I was already a member of the 300 Club." Red said as he entered the room wearing a black Henley and dark green flannel lounge pants.
Samar offered a double take for the less than debonair attire Reddington chose this evening, having never seen the man in anything other than impeccable apparel.
"You weren't even around back then, Red." Liz reminded cheekily. "Or are they still in existence? They were prevalent in the early fifties, right?"
"What's the 300 Club?" Samar was drawing a blank.
"It's a time-honored test of man against nature. Only the most valiant of men are accepted into the small, distinguished circle." Red proudly expounded his one claim to fame. Well, the only legitimate one.
"He takes off all his clothes, runs naked from a sauna to the South Pole, then back to the sauna in subzero weather." Dembe expounded it in another fashion.
"Talk about shrinkage factor." Hunter held his grin.
"You make it sound so mundane." Red crinkled his nose disparagingly. "I could have died, you know."
"Which is not an unusual occurrence for you on a daily basis." Dembe reminded flippantly before chugging his drink.
Hesitating briefly, Red sighed heavily. It wasn't unusual. It was true.
Liz giggled. "I would pay to see you do that."
"You see it almost nightly, I'm sure." Samar was still working on the particulars, clearly.
"I meant...all those men running naked." Liz clarified with a smile. Red held his grin for Samar's unthinking remark. "Oh hey, Red, were you wearing your fedora? That would be so sexy."
Canting his head, Red arched a brow. "What do you think?"
Holding the man's eyes, Liz smiled after a fashion, visualizing what she wanted to imagine.
"You've seen one..." Hunter sighed evenly. "Although, I don't believe I've ever seen you without a suit and vest." He had noted Red's attire on this occasion as well.
"Lets not stand on ceremony here," Red pulled Lizzy's chair out as any gentleman would, seating his lady. "I'm too tired to deal with picking a coordinating tie at the moment." He motioned to his comfortable clothing.
"The bar is open." He motioned. "Everyone grab your preferred drink." He shifted a glance to his wife. "I'm thinking maybe some wine for you until you get some food in your tummy?"
Liz sighed heavily. "I hate when you're in your protective mode." She blatantly lied.
He smiled. "Nevertheless."
All retired to the dining table, removing the covers from their plates. "Oh my goodness, this smells amazing." Samar's taste buds salivated. "What a treat from my normal selection off the Lucky Danger menu."
Red grinned. "A working girl's best friend. A Chinese restaurant, right?"
"Well, let's just say, I'm not slumming it at the moment." Samar lifted mischievous eyes, dancing with delight.
"Have you heard from Cooper?" Liz asked Samar between bites.
"Oh, who cares," Samar thoughtlessly replied, then she caught the slip. "Well, I'm in trouble if that gets back to him."
Slicing into his steak, Red was pleased to find the meat cooked to perfection. "I spoke with him a few minutes ago."
"That's who you were talking to?" Liz asked. "Is all quiet on the western front?"
Sighing, Red sipped his wine, debating whether to get into it at this time. "There was one other explosion," he replied. "Reagan International."
"What?" Liz gasped her shock, her utensil forgotten for a spell.
"Casualties?" Samar sat her fork down as well, guilt setting in instantly. Here they were, in such amazing surroundings, and other people...
"...None." Red's jaw flexed irritably. He glanced around the table at the stricken faces. The men were hiding their concern better, but not by much.
Being witness to Richter's level of destruction, Liz found the idea implausible. "How is that possible?"
"Surely there were victims at De Gaulle?" Samar frowned her confusion.
"There were a few," Red didn't discount the fact, "but considering everything... it could have been so much worse."
"Who was the target?" Though she had a sneaky suspicion, Samar still wanted confirmation.
"It appeared Richter's target was the TSA." Red related the pertinent information. "He focused the blast to their offices...the head offices."
"But still," Liz couldn't wrap her mind around what Red was telling her, "I saw what he was capable of doing–"
"According to Sean, the force of the explosion was directed upward," Red motioned, "and only enough explosive was used to target that specific area."
Buttering his roll, Red popped his neck. "Even had Richter not created a diversion to empty the airport of civilians, the blast would have only damaged that area."
"Have the bombs all been diffused, Red?" Liz asked quietly.
"Cooper said a worldwide alert has been issued, and field agents will dismantle the bombs once located." Red said. "In any case, until the threat has been eliminated, all commercial flights are grounded."
"But not private?" Samar had her reasons for asking.
"In most instances, private flights usually board via the tarmac," Red reminded. "Commercial boards from a gangway inside the airport."
"Oh, right." Liz knew that. Commercial flights could revert to using the tarmac, but she assumed after the events of the day...
"Not that anyone wants to fly right now, anyway." Red voiced her thoughts aloud.
"Is Richter taking full responsibility?" Samar wanted to know.
"Proudly so," Red replied. "According to him, the man that employed his services lost his family in the Flight 1512 crash last year and wanted revenge."
Grimacing, Liz thought she recalled the incident correctly. "That was the flight with the emotionally unstable pilot, right?"
"Yes," Red confirmed. "Both the airline and TSA knew he was a liability, but their schedules were full. Not enough accredited pilots around today, evidently."
Samar vaguely remembered the details in the reports. "Didn't his employers state, because of medical privacy, they were unaware he had been declared unfit to fly."
"The guy's psychologist prescribed meds for psychosis and suicidal tendencies." Hunter Gaines joined in the conversation. "This later came out via the AP."
"There is the privacy act in effect." Samar gave the benefit of the doubt. "But when lives are in danger, shouldn't such things dictate common sense and decency?"
"The bastard had racked up four DUIs in the weeks leading up to the crash and was bailed out by a fellow pilot in two of those instances." Hunter had no sympathy or empathy. "Someone had an inkling he shouldn't be in the pilot's seat and chose to keep their mouths shut."
"So, why only target the TSA and not the airline...or his fellow pilot?" Liz voiced what was on everyone's mind.
"There is an official report stating the TSA knew the pilot had been drinking that morning," Red reminded, "but still waved him through without issue." He said. "For the record, however, Richter's next target was the actual airline offices."
"It's hard to know who to blame in such cases...or who to not." Samar glanced forlornly at the crisp salad she had ordered, but her appetite had waned.
"Did Richter supply the name of his employer in this matter?" Hunter asked quietly.
"Took some doing, but SWAT raided the guy's house this afternoon," Red said, "and found him dead from a self-inflicted gunshot wound."
Closing solemn eyes, Liz felt sorrow for all involved. Samar's features fell, her mood sinking into oblivion.
"Coroner couldn't confirm, but said time of death likely occurred around the time the explosion at De Gualle hit the news." Red related what he knew.
The silence about the table was telling.
"I didn't want to get into this at this time, people." Red sighed for the fact. "Shit happens in the world. We did what we could. The reality is, if we don't replenish our own resources in here," he pointed to his mind and his heart, "we'll be no good to anyone else that needs our help down the line. Don't sit here feeling what you all so obviously do."
Liz hadn't lifted her head as yet. Samar's dark eyes shifted, filled with remorse and guilt. Hunter sat quietly, contemplating the thoughts in his head.
Dembe picked up his fork. "Think of those that did not get hurt by this man's actions." He suggested evenly. "Think of those that can now move on with their lives. A form of justice was perpetrated. We might not appreciate the method or the reality, but choices were made by people who should have acted with honor and courage to their fellow human beings."
Liz gave Dembe her undivided attention.
"They did not. Therefore, they paid a very high price." The keen, intelligent eyes watched those around him. "Just as their actions forced others to pay the same price. Evil exists in the world. It will always exist. Our job is to lessen the horror in any way available to us."
Red's eyes were soft on the man.
"We did our jobs." Dembe stated flatly. "We cannot change what happened, no matter how much we wish it so." The quiet, dignified tone served as a gentle reminder of what these people already knew, but needed so desperately to be reminded. "We can only go on and hope that tomorrow, we may still be here to combat those who would do harm to others. We have all chosen to fight such things. To do nothing is the wrong thing to choose. You all have chosen wisely."
Red picked up his utensil. "Well said, my old friend." He nodded his satisfaction. "This lovely meal awaits. Let us replenish our strength, both mentally and physically, that as Dembe said...we can continue to do our parts in this eternal struggle."
Samar hesitated then, forced a smile. "Israel has a saying." She lifted a bright smile. "Loosely translated, you understand." Her smile faltered a tad. "As long as a soul still yearns, and an eye still watches," the woman's voice was quiet, beautifully lyrical for her accent was allowed, her guard dropped, "our hope is not yet lost…"
Liz's eyes misted. "That's lovely, Samar."
"And most apropos." Red nodded quietly. "...Come on, people. Let's enjoy this wondrous meal. We've earned it. I think we can all agree on that point, at least."
The mood lightened as best it could and by the end of the evening, a lightness had returned to many a replenished soul, Red was happy to note.
Finishing his meal, Hunter wiped his mouth, then cleaned up his mess. "As exciting as this conversation has been," the man stood, placing his covered plate on the cart, "I'm gonna hit the sack a couple hours. I'm on night watch."
Red inclined his head, knowing better than to argue with the man. He glanced at the clock. "Well, you'll catch five hours. Not much, granted."
"I can't get to sleep before twelve." Samar rolled her eyes. "Old habits die hard. I can give you another hour."
"I'll take what I can get." Hunter bowed his head minutely. "Lovely lady. Thank you."
"I'm going to relax in that pool if it's the last thing I do tonight." Samar looked longingly at the pristine waters awaiting.
"Let's just watch a movie or something." Liz sought Red's input. "I can't do anything that involves thought or action." She quipped. "God, I'm getting old. Don't tell Silas."
Hunter grinned, taking his leave.
Fifteen minutes later, Red and Lizzy were cuddled up on the massive couch, flipping through channels, a comfortable throw thrown over their legs.
Samar lounged in the heated waters of the infinity pool as soft music played through the provided system.
Red had closed the glass partitions, but he could still hear the faint sound of Sinatra's "All the Way". He always loved that song.
"Go back, Red." Liz sat up hastily, having caught a glimpse of a CCTV video as the man channel surfed.
Red reluctantly obliged. He had seen it as well, but hoped the woman had not. Lizzy turned her attention to the local news, watching a recap of the explosion.
"Holy crap..." Liz whispered her awe. "I don't understand how that," she motioned, "would have only taken out the TSA office."
"Most of that was from the truck and plane, Lizzy, remember." Red cautioned. "Which was outside the terminal."
"How much did he have in that truck?" Liz glanced up at Red, frowning.
"Enough to wire three more locations." Red sighed. "Look, it's over. It's done."
Watching the slowed version of events, Red's eye ticked when he saw the shockwave head for him and Lizzy before it engulfed them in a cloud of dirt. It was amazing they weren't injured more seriously. In fact, aside from a slight singe on his skin, he suffered no ill effects.
Lizzy, on the other hand, either caught a bullet or shrapnel. Considering everything, he counted his blessings.
Glancing at the bandaged area, he relaxed somewhat, finding it a pristine white. He would check it again before bed, just to be on the safe side.
"So that," Liz nodded, "along with the plane sitting behind it... created that?"
"...Yep." He recalled a wise man's words. "But remember what Jim Anders said. Compared to a fertilizer plant? That shit was small potatoes."
Snuggling into Red's side, Liz grinned. "We should have invited him and Muriel up for the evening."
"Where the hell are our manners." Red wondered. "Absolutely, we should have."
"It's not too late."
"Yeah, Lizzy." He kissed the crown of her head. "It's too late. Besides, Jim has to work tomorrow. He told me."
Shaking his head, he lifted the remote, finding a movie to watch. It had become their new norm to unwind with some mindless entertainment and forget the day.
"Oh, oh!" Liz pointed excitedly, something else catching her interest. "Can we watch this? I've never had the chance to see it from the beginning." She beamed a hopeful smile.
"I wonder how it ends." He quipped. Nodding his approval, Red paused the movie and stood. Situating the pillows around them, he dragged the ottoman closer, creating a nest of sorts for them to relax in.
"Dembe, will you join us?" Red motioned, knowing his friend enjoyed a good historical action film.
Dembe inclined his head. "Anyone for popcorn?"
"Ron Howard and Walter Cronkite." Red mused. "That's the way to catch someone's attention, I must say."
"I know how it ends, Red." Liz stated excitedly.
"Hush, woman." Red teased. "No spoilers. Dembe will shoot you." He roused himself. "Speaking of which. You need to ice that shoulder."
"Dembe didn't shoot me." Liz frowned. "How did you add that up to three?"
The man rummaged in the kitchen drawers finding an icepack. "This one is just cool, won't be so harsh on your skin," He decided. He tossed a few in the fridge for later, just in case.
"That's a big bowl of popcorn, Dembe."
"When I eat popcorn, I eat popcorn." Dembe shifted unapologetic eyes, taking the treat with him into the other room.
Red returned, pressing a decorative tea towel and ice pack to Liz's shoulder. "Couldn't I do heat?" She whined.
"Later." Red cuddled back down to her side, having properly affixed the item to her wound. "You don't have to leave it on long. Comfortable?" He murmured.
The woman moved closer, retaking her position at his side, her leg thrown over Red's thigh. "Now I am."
"Thank you, Dembe." Red smiled happily as a large bowl of popcorn entered his field of vision.
Waiting until everyone was situated and comfortable, Red lifted the remote, resuming the movie. Just as he got the lights turned down, the theme song came at them in surround sound.
Wrapping her arm about his waist, Liz snuggled in, beaming happily up at Red when Walter Cronkite's voice came through the speakers.
"That man's voice is almost hypnotic. Does nice things to my system." She whispered, lifting her stylish brows when the man grinned down at her.
"Me too." He nodded sagely. "Should I be worried?"
Lizzy giggled.
Kissing her brow, Red happily settled in for a nice, quiet movie night with his wife.
LIZZINGTON
Sighing, Samar paddled lazily to where she had left her phone on the side of the pool. She hoped it wasn't anything work related. She was truly relaxing, and it felt amazing to do so.
"Before you ask," Silas' deep baritone came over the line without preamble. "I'm not wearing anything and I have my dick in my hand. Can you guess why?"
Laughing softly, Samar grinned. "Nope. Tell me."
"Relieving my doldrums, one might say. Wanna watch?" The man sat back, his mood lifting considerably. "We could Skype."
"Wouldn't that be fun." Samar settled back on her floater chair. "You'll never guess what I'm doing, either."
"Playing with your vibrator?"
"That's a helicopter flying over our penthouse patio." She glanced up at the huge machine making its way to the airport.
"Thought planes were grounded."
"Maybe it came from the Twilight Zone." She suggested silkily. "I believe I said, helicopter. Want to know what I'm wearing?"
"Not sure my heart can take it, but fire away, little lady."
"A really skimpy bathing suit with no back whatsoever, and not much front either, if one were truthful."
"Oh, baby." Silas' tone dropped. He sat up in his chair, his attention caught. "Can you see those amazing little tits? Most of them, at least?"
"Not so little." Samar pouted.
"Oh, hell, I know that." He caressed her lovingly, his hand tightening on the phone. "You're making my mouth water and my cock harder."
"That's my job." The woman frowned superficially. "Isn't it?"
"You're fucking good at your job." His tone said just how much he was affected.
"I'm good at a lot of things." She smiled sweetly. "Let me get this imagine in my head. You're flying on a plane over the Atlantic with two huge men... and you're playing with your dick while sitting in the opened cabin."
"I'm in the back of the plane. All alone. With no sweet, tight pussy to take my mind from my troubles."
"You are troubled?" She softened her tone. "Can I help?"
"I bet you could." Silas was relatively certain of that fact. "You know what I need?"
"Some woman to go down on that thick, swollen cock?" She hoped she assumed correctly.
"...Shit." The man breathed out his misery. "You're fucking killing me here, woman."
"I'm feeling..." she basked in the warm water, closing her eyes. "Oh, Silas, it's so lovely up here. I can see the stars. And no one is bothering me and it's just...a perfect night."
"Let's get back to you sucking me off." His voice was tight. "What I meant...I need you to meet me at the airport. That need is more prevalent now, you understand."
"I'm in Texas, so they tell me." She allowed her disappointment. "Not D.C."
Silas closed his eyes. "Shit. I forgot."
"And I don't want you flying anymore tonight. You need to rest. Liz says so."
"That little busybody should mind her own business." The man growled his disillusionment. "I could rest in your arms. Shit, baby. I need to be with you. Don't you need that as well?"
"I do." She admitted freely. "I can't wait to be with you, in reality, but I want you to be operating at your top efficiency when we get a few moments to ourselves."
"I'll never let you down in that capacity, angel. Rest assured." He promised. "I could be on my deathbed and I'd show you the best fucking time of your young life."
She grew quiet, and the man picked up on the fact. "...What? You think I can't live up to my boasts?"
Samar's mood dropped a bit. "I think we should address the elephant in the room before we go further." Her voice held a melancholy. "Silas, I'm not accustomed to... a life like this. I think you know that. This luxury and..." she trailed off, glancing around the beautiful architecture of the building. "You know my background. You've probably read my dossier."
She lay back, her mood sinking lower still, her hand trailing in the water as she floated about the pool. "...Mossad recruits women for one thing. Or they did in my day." She forced a smile. "No one bothered to explain that to me for a while, and by then I was infiltrated into the network."
She compressed her mouth. "Not that I didn't have a choice. I want that understood. I could have walked away back then. I know that."
Silas listened attentively.
"The only other choice I had at the time was to return to my village and marry a man I had absolutely no respect or affection for." The woman threw her hair back over her shoulder, sighing lightly. "There are days I wish I had made that decision, but for the most part, I don't regret my life. I did what I thought was right and truly believed the ends would justify the means."
"Do you believe that now?" Silas was curious.
"I don't know what I believe any longer." She shared the truth, which she never bothered to do before. "Do you know, you're the first man to ask me that?" She swallowed the threat of tears, clearing her voice gently. "My thoughts or beliefs did not factor into any equation to which men of my race care to give any credence."
Silas' expression softened, but she could not see.
"It is what it is." She shrugged slender shoulders. "One learns to adjust their thinking patterns. I was a tool to be used to further the cause. I think I did a reasonably good job." She shrugged again. "Are you understanding exactly what sort of tool I was?"
Silas processed the question, his own mood quietly intent. "Samar, neither of us has been celibate." He pointed out the obvious. "Do you hold my past behavior against me? Probably." He grinned. "What woman wouldn't? I hope you temper that decision with the knowledge that..." He halted, unsure just how far to take this in-depth conversation. "Honey, I don't want you pissed at me. Do we stop here? Please know," his tone softened, "it doesn't matter to me what you did in the past. It only matters what we do in our future. Do you want one with me?"
Samar's beautiful brown eyes filled with the threat of tears. "I don't even know what that means." She stammered her confusion. "I thought you just wanted–"
"What?" Silas waited. "A proverbial roll in the hay?"
She nodded, swiping at her cheeks. "Which isn't to say, I'm opposed to the idea. Not at all."
"Is that what you want?" The man moved carefully. "Because I want more."
She closed her eyes, allowing the tears. She swallowed hard. "Oh, Silas," she whispered reverently, "you don't have to say that."
"I know that." He did, his tone scolding her.
She sniffed gently.
"Are you crying, baby." A silken tone washed over Samar's body, and a smile came to the man's sensual mouth. "Is that for me?"
"I'm not." She hastily wiped at her cheeks. "Of course, I'm not."
Silas' smile grew slowly. "No, of course not. No fucking man will ever make you cry, will they."
She shook her head. "I just wanted to clear the air before...or if..."
"There is no if..." He hardened his decree. "I can't stop thinking about you. Believe it or not, that hasn't been a problem for me in the past where a woman is concerned. Not that the women I've known haven't been memorable." He corrected any misunderstandings. "They were lovely in their own way, but none of them, Samar, touch my soul like you do."
"Except one." She knew.
"Anya was different, yes. And another part of my life that's long gone now." A sadness infiltrated his manner. "I didn't think I'd ever find any woman to..." He stopped that line of thought. "I can't stop thinking about you." He repeated so gently it brought tears again, for the woman's soul was touched as well.
"I've made you sad," Samar realized.
"No, not that." He smiled, downing his head. "I miss you and I want to be with you...and we're thousands of miles apart. That pisses me off, but I'm not sad. Just hearing your voice takes that feeling away."
"I wish you were here, in this place with me." She suddenly wanted that desperately. "Looking at the stars and feeling the warm water and," she closed her eyes, "touching me."
"I want to touch you." The man freely admitted. "Your skin is like silk and your scent drives me crazy. I want to lick each inch of that beautiful body." He warmed to his narrative. "I want to ease the straps of that bathing suit down and taste your nipples... touch my tongue to your clit."
Samar stifled a gasp of delight as a warm rush of liquid pooled between her legs. Those brown eyes closed, and she lay back, listening to the sound of that deep, resonant voice which took her places she had only visited in her dreams.
"I want to hear you whimper and moan for me." Silas could hear the catch in her breathing. "I want to put my tongue in your snug hole. If I stroke you just right... maybe you'll gift me that sweet nectar I love." His tongue flicked against his lip in anticipation. "I know how to stroke you, baby. God is my witness, I do."
"...Stop." The husky whisper of a plea moved the man to new heights of imagination. "There are others about." Samar chanced a hasty glance at the people behind the sliding glass windows.
"Making you feel like touching that swollen little clit?" Silas hoped as much, at least. "Why don't you do that for me, angel. Reach down. No one can see. It's dark, isn't it."
Samar's eyes swiftly checked her surroundings.
"Get down in the water, by the side of the pool." He encouraged. "Reach into that suit...feel the slickness of your clit. I bet it's all swollen and hurting. I don't like you hurting."
"Then... stop talking." She breathed out raspingly.
"I can't leave you like you are. What kind of prick would do that?" Silas leaned forward, his tone tight. "I want to hear when it happens for you. I bet you're all soft and vulnerable, and wet for me."
"Oh god..." The woman eased into the water, grimacing her new found pain. "I will get you for this."
Silas grinned. "You know you want to come for me." The sensual caress of his voice washed over Samar's flesh. "You know what I'm doing, baby? My hand is stroking my cock, and it's just for you. I'm imagining I'm easing into your hot, sweet hole so slowly. Inch by inch."
Samar hastily checked on the others again. They seemed concentrated on a movie.
"You're tight, aren't you." Silas unzipped his jeans, reaching inside. "Tight and...steamy. That cream is flowing, isn't it. I bet if I lift just a tad...I can feel it on the tip of my dick."
"Oh." Samar whimpered her growing involvement.
"I'm so hard for you." Silas glanced at his cock. "The head is so swollen and...painful." He grunted his own involvement, his hand sliding a little faster on the warmth of his skin.
A tiny moan escaped from the woman's throat.
"I'm thick, baby. I bet your tiny pussy likes it thick, doesn't it." Silas' voice was hoarse and raspy. "I want to give you my cream. I've got so much saved up for you. I haven't wanted any other woman. I want to share it with you, and only you."
Samar closed her eyes, groaning melodiously. She slid her finger under the fabric of her suit, touching herself.
"Feels so good, don't it. You're touching my little clit, aren't you."
"Oh, my god." The woman slid her finger into the hotness of her own body, thrusting gently, the man's voice taking her to a very nice place indeed.
"Look around...there must be something you can put in there." Silas encouraged. "If I were there, I'd slide my cock in, but I'd find something to push into that amazing little ass as well. I want to make you squirm with need for me, baby."
Samar's eyes opened, then frantically searched about, her cheeks flushed and beautiful in her growing desperation.
"Move over by the vents." Silas had ideas of his own that might help out. "Put that little cunt right over the flow. Hold it pressed tightly..."
Samar lifted guilt filled eyes but fumbled to her right, finding a water jet. She checked Hunter Gaines' room. The lights were out.
"Feel that warm water hit your clit?" Silas crooned silkily. He listened to the whimpers and hesitant moans, reveling in the sound of that seductive hoarseness. "You're taking me there, baby." He closed his eyes. "I'm pumping my cock so fast...I want it," he rasped his growing need. "I want you so badly."
Samar's breathing was more shallow...labored.
"You're almost there, aren't you." He groaned lowly. "Me too." He grunted his pain. "God, it feels so..." his breathing was heavy. His sentences broken, disjointed. "Aw, fuck." He gasped sharply, his fluid building to an intolerable degree. "Those sounds you make are tearing my insides apart. Don't stop, baby. God...don't stop."
Samar had issues of her own, the warm jets caressing her clit just so.
"I'm gonna tongue your pussy," Silas freely shared his fantasy, his cream held back by sheer willpower alone. No way would he succumb before she did. "I'm gonna find all your sweet spots," he imagined the pulses of water beating against her clit, caressing the little nub just as thoroughly as he would, "and make you come hard in my mouth."
Samar released her inhibitions, doing just that...
Grasping the moment, Silas closed his eyes as his hand eased over his engorged head and thick fluid exploded forth, drenching his jeans and the floor beneath him. He growled a long, heart-felt convulsive gasp of appreciation and a rather vulgar expletive.
The silence was thick as each individual came down from a very nice high.
"...No woman has ever been able to make me do that." He confessed. "Not on the fucking phone." Oh, he had pretended they had, of course. No need to be a shithead about it. They had tried their best, after all. But Silas had always preferred the real thing in the past.
Samar's cheeks were flushed, heated. "I..." She could not believe what she had just allowed. She had lost control. Where? She had no idea.
She was always in control where a man was concerned. Oft times, her very life depended on the fact. She had to keep her senses and intelligence about her in her line of work. At least, when working for Mossad.
"I..."
"Yeah, you leave me speechless, too. And breathless as shit." Silas huffed a laugh before inhaling a lungful of air. He sat back, relaxing fully for a beat. His body was telling him, no, demanding he do that. "And fulfilled and...just damned happy inside."
Any awkwardness Samar felt vanished as quickly as it came. She felt... better. "Why are you so good to me?"
"Why wouldn't I be good to such a magnificent woman?" He puzzled. "I'm good for you, too, baby. You just don't know it yet."
Samar took the time to collect herself, the man allowing her that time. "I know it, Silas." Her tone was gentle and soft for him.
"Then let's just forget about the doubts and what-ifs and move forward, hum?" He sat up, glancing at the mess he had made of his clothing and below. "Look what you've made me do. Now I have to clean up the evidence that a mere slip of a female can reduce me to a sniffling, neophyte who is unable to control his sexual proclivities. Hope you're proud of yourself."
"I think you can take the credit for what happened. In fact, I place all the blame on you." She teased. "I just went along for the ride."
"You can ride me anytime you wish, lady."
Samar smiled. "I just might take you up on that. Then what would you do?"
"Lay there and take it like a man." Silas had the answer. His keen sense of hearing alerted him to a possible problem on the horizon. "Shit, baby...those jerkwads out there are coming back here. I need to clean this shit up fast. Can I call you back?"
Laughing brightly, Samar hung up without further ado. Taking a moment to compose herself, she knew the smile was still very apparent on her face.
Sighing, she climbed out of the pool, going to shower and change.
LIZZINGTON
Chuckling quietly, Red handed Lizzy a couple of tissues from the box beside him before tossing it towards Samar.
The woman had joined the ensemble some time back. Right around the time, the astronauts delivered the line Tom Hanks was so famous for. The former Mossad agent appeared completely relaxed and enthralled with the movie plot.
After a couple months now of enjoying movie night with Lizzy, Red had become accustomed to the woman shedding a tear or two over a movie. Once he learned to expect it, he took every opportunity to cuddle and soothe the woman... just as he did now.
But never in his life did he expect to be witness to Samar Navabi tearing up over a movie, but there the woman sat, dabbing at those dark, exotic eyes, sniffling softly. "I didn't think they were going to make it, even though I know they did in real life."
Silas was gonna love this. Samar was one tough cookie. She could hold her own with most men. But it was nice to know she had a very feminine side as well. Silas was going to love that as well, Red would imagine.
Liz sniffled. "My god, that was intense! Those few minutes seemed like an eternity!"
"A very enjoyable effort," Red had to admit. While they took artistic license, as all Hollywood movies did, Ron Howard had made the retelling of the historical event a charming one.
Just as the entire world had, Red recalled watching the events unfold in his youth; transfixed by the fate of the disabled space flight and the astronauts within.
"Shall we watch another?" Red asked, motioning to the screen which was advertising the next feature. "Look Dembe, it's a favorite of yours."
"I must refresh my memory." Dembe nodded sagely, motioning to The Mummy trailer playing. "I have forgotten the correct incantation to perform, should I need to resurrect Francis."
"If only they had one to mend his flesh wounds." Liz sighed her melancholy, before popping a mini Junior Mint in her mouth.
Chuckling quietly, Samar wiped the last of the moisture from her eyes, absently retrieving her phone, which was chiming merrily.
"This has to be Cooper." She sighed, automatically pushing the needed button. "This is Navabi."
"I thought you said I could call you, sugar drawers."
The woman's face softened, her entire demeanor altering.
Red's brows lifted in surprise when Samar's cheeks plumped with her growing amusement before emitting a soft snigger of laughter.
"Hang on, McDreamy..." her voice took on a seductive vibe Red picked up on. "This has been a very nice evening. Thank you both for..." She trailed off, motioning to her surroundings. "I'm just going to take this in my room, I think."
Red nodded amiably. "Tell Silas I said, get his ass back home ASAP. He's missed. And to check in with me when he lands."
"Did he rest?" Liz sat up, a concerned look on her face.
"I'll ask him." Samar flushed a little, then took her leave. She walked slowly out of the room, her attention concentrated and fixed.
"Ask me what?" The man asked, having heard some of the exchange.
"I'll tell you what," Samar murmured in a soft whisper as the elevator door opened. "You tell me what you're wearing," she countered before the doors slid closed, "and I'll tell you what I'm not wearing."
Samar blinked innocently, her face lighting at the subdued, deep, sensual chuckle on the other end of the line. She bit her thumbnail nervously, her system going on full alert.
Giving Dembe a side look, Red settled back beside Lizzy.
"Remind me to call Silas," he lifted his hand, pushing play on the movie, "... tomorrow, as he is apparently indisposed at the moment."
Smiling happily, Liz watched the woman retire for the evening. "Was that really Silas?" She hurriedly turned for any juicy tidbit of gossip available.
"I don't know any other person who can make Samar blush like that, do you?"
"I've never seen her blush or even flustered." Liz was stunned to recall. "Oh, isn't that sweet, Red."
"You better not let Silas hear you say that," Red warned. "He's a very private man, as you know."
Liz crinkled her nose. "Oh, bother." She dismissed. "If he's found himself a good woman, he should want to share that with the world."
"He'll share it when and if he wants. Has nothing to do with us."
Liz rolled her eyes. "What do you think about it, Dembe?"
"I think I will really need that book of the dead," Dembe stressed the words, "so I can resurrect not only Francis, but you, if Silas gets wind you're interfering in his private life."
"He won't mind." Liz knew. "He expects it from me. He'd be hurt if I didn't show an interest in his life, private or not."
"Okay." Red exchanged looks with a doubtful Dembe Zuma. Both men returned their interest to the movie.
LIZZINGTON
Author Note: Sorry for the delay guys. It's been hell the last couple weeks...